Poor Uncle Ben
by FriendlyTwo3
Summary: Ben's death from The Amazing Spider Man. Best read while listening to the score from The Amazing Spider Man by James Horner: Ben's Death.


I leaned on the wall and sipped the last bit of chocolate milk. Though I didn't usually like seeing people get ripped off, that clerk deserved what he got. I mean, really? Two cents?

"Not my policy." Soon I would learn to regret my smart-ass remark. Little did I know all I would have to do is turn a corner and cross the street to find my fate. Or more specifically, Uncle Ben's fate.

I loved my Uncle so much. He was there for me since the very start. That one picture and some research mixed with teen hormones and the stresses of genetic mutation made me forget all of the thankfulness I had for him. All the happiness he had filled my life with. All the worry I had when he would come down with the flu or break his wrist. All the sadness that filled me when I looked at the limp body on the sidewalk covered in black liquid.

My heart stopped beating and I fell short of breath. A knot formed at my throat as I walked closer, revealing a pair of smudged glasses and a brownish leather jacket. My mouth hung open. There were a few people gathering in around me. I dropped to my knees and put my hands on his stomach. His blood, his very life gooed between my fingers. "Uncle Ben, Uncle Ben! Oh god…" I couldn't stop my bottom jaw from sticking out as tears fell down my face. I could feel no pulse but I didn't stop calling out his name. "Call an ambulance! Somebody call an ambulance! Uncle Ben, Uncle Ben… Jesus…"

I sat in my room and held my head. The cops had given me a sketch of the man with the star on his wrist. I couldn't stop thinking of the last words I heard him say: "How dare you!"

I didn't want those to be the last words I heard him say to me. I clicked a button on my phone. Time seemed to slow down around me as I put the device on my ear. It played the message I had ignored. The noise seeped into my ears as if it were clawing at my very emotions. There was no reality at that point. There was no Aunt May. There was no school. There was no Gwen Stacy. There was no planet Earth. There were only Uncle Ben's words.

"Peter… I know things have been pretty rough for you lately… and I'm sorry about that. I think I know what you're feeling."

The sting of the words was unbearable. I cut the message off and let out all of my tears. It seemed as though to make up for lost time, things sped up to immeasurable levels. It was as if school was but a minute away.

I walked down the halls as students stepped aside to let me by. I didn't want anyone to touch me. I didn't want to feel. I didn't want to see, to hear, to taste, to think. All of which were inevitable as I turned my lock to the correct digits: 12-32-01. My locker slithered open and I took out my science textbook. An all too familiar voice called out to me. "Hey, Parker! Parker!" I felt Flash's hand on my shoulder.

"Not today, Flash…"

"Come on, man, I just wanna…" I dropped my books. I spun around and used my strength to pick him up and slam him into the locker. He looked at me with an honest expression on his face. "That feels better doesn't it? Your Uncle... I'm sorry." I put him down and hung my head. "I'm sorry."

I picked my things up off the floor and walked away, holding my head. I pushed people out of the way and held in what I could of my tears. I was about to bump into someone when I looked up and saw who it was. It was Gwen. That girl I had a crush on since 9th grade. Time slowed down again as we stared at each other. Her ocean blue eyes stared into me, reading my every emotion and sifting through my every memory. She seemed to say everything she had to with just an expression. I felt like I was going to collapse. It was when I was going to walk away when she moved toward me and wrapped her arms around me. I closed my eyes and moved away. As much as I would've liked to stay with her, to close my arms around her and keep her with me, I just couldn't. It stung to be with people. With anyone. It stung to be Peter Parker. It stung to live.

Through all the layers of regret and sadness lied a burning flame, a fire that wouldn't cool no matter how much counseling I might've gotten. No matter how long I waited, the fire would just keep growing; I couldn't take it. I had to take the law into my own hands. I had to kill that man that I let live.


End file.
